


On Loving Clint Barton

by KejfeBlintz



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Avengers, Dyslexic Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Relationships, Sharing a Bed, parental figures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KejfeBlintz/pseuds/KejfeBlintz
Summary: After the Battle of New York, Clint isn't doing well. Steve and Tony step up to help him out and help each other in the process.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark & Clint Barton
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	On Loving Clint Barton

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has Steve and Tony acting in parental ways towards Clint, who is still an adult. It's not age play and nobody is infantilised, but there are definitely parent/child overtones in their relationship. Their relationship is platonic, but you could read Steve and Tony as pre-slash.

Six weeks after the Battle of New York, Clint collapsed.

Steve was frowning at the never-ending pile of paperwork that was teetering on his desk at S.H.I.E.L.D, wondering when saving the world suddenly seemed to require filling out quite so many forms. He was saved from his increasingly desperate attempts to find a missing file by the shrill ringing of his desk phone.  
“This is Rogers.”   
“Ah Captain Rogers, I’m so glad I caught you at your desk. Agent Barton has been admitted to Medical and I’m afraid we need your help with him.” the voice on the other end replied apologetically.  
“Barton? Is he alright?” Steve was hurriedly stuffing papers into folders.  
“If you could come down as soon as you’re able?”  
“On my way.” Steve gave up on trying to leave his desk neat, instead striding to the nearest elevator and hitting the button for Medical.

A harried-looking nurse met Steve at the door to Medical. “Captain Rogers, thank goodness. Right this way please.”  
“Is Agent Barton alright?” Steve asked, easily keeping pace with the hurrying nurse.  
“The doctor will fill you in. Through here, please.”  
The nurse gestured for Steve to step into a small room ahead of him. Steve took in the sight of a sleeping Clint, restraints at his ankles and wrists.  
“Why is he restrained?” Steve asked.  
“Agent Barton had become a danger to himself and the medical staff. We had no option other than to sedate and restrain him.” the doctor replied, stepping into the small room.   
“What do you mean, a danger?” Steve was getting impatient.  
“He attacked three nurses, a doctor and two orderlies, Captain. We had no other choice.” the doctor replied.  
“Why is he here in the first place?” Steve asked. “He doesn’t look injured.”  
“Agent Barton collapsed on the firing range. He was brought here unconscious. We were able to ascertain that he is dehydrated, undernourished, and exhausted. He woke up and became combative before we were able to administer any treatment.” the doctor sighed. “In usual circumstances, we would have called Agents Coulson or Romanov to keep him calm, however those options are no longer open to us. You are his team leader on paper, Captain Rogers.”  
“He’s an Avenger, of course I’ll take responsibility for him. What do you need?” Steve replied.  
“We need to administer fluids via an IV. He has a long history of ripping them out and disappearing into the ventilation system. I would appreciate it if you could find a way to prevent that from happening.”  
Clint began to stir on the bed.  
“The sedation is wearing off. I’ll get a nurse to readminister the dosage.” the doctor turned to call for a nurse.  
“No! No more sedation. And remove the restraints, they aren’t necessary.” Steve snapped.  
“With all due respect, Captain-” the doctor began.  
“No. Restraints off. Now.” Steve snarled.  
“As you wish, Captain.”

As soon as the restraints were removed, Steve stepped close to the bed and rested his hand on Clint’s shoulder.  
“Hey there Barton, it’s Steve,” he said softly. Clint stirred under his hand. “You’re in Medical, but you’re safe. They need to hook you up to an IV, ok? I’ll be right here.”  
He nodded at the nurse, who tentatively approached but quickly and efficiently inserted the IV into the back of Clint’s hand and hooked him up to a bag of saline. Clint flinched when the needle was inserted and groaned.  
“It’s OK, Barton. You’re safe.” Steve soothed.   
Clint jerked under Steve’s hand, his eyes snapping open and looking around the room wildly.  
“Hey, easy. Look at me, Barton.” Steve said, trying to catch Clint’s eye. He smiled when Clint looked at him. “Hey there, take a breath for me.”  
Clint dragged in a lungful of air, still tensed for fight or flight. Then he noticed the IV in his hand and lunged for it, intending to rip it out. Steve intercepted his movement, taking hold of his wrist and gently pressing his hand down by his side and resting a hand in the centre of Clint’s chest to stop him from launching to his feet.  
“Easy, it’s just saline. You’re very dehydrated and you need it. Settle, Clint.”  
At the sound of his first name, Clint seemed to deflate. Steve didn’t loosen his grip though.  
“You collapsed on the range. You’re in Medical. You’re dehydrated and exhausted so you need to stay here for a little while to get better, OK?” Steve soothed.  
Clint shook his head and tried to get up again, but Steve easily held him down. “You need to rest. I’ll be right here with you, OK?”  
Clint tested his range of movement again, whimpering a little when Steve wouldn’t let him up. Steve risked letting go of Clint’s wrist to run a soothing hand up and down his arm instead. Clint immediately grasped Steve’s wrist where his hand was resting against his chest. He tugged on it a little but he was clearly exhausted. Steve rubbed his thumb where it rested over Clint’s sternum. As suddenly as he awoke, Clint slid back into sleep, a worried frown on his forehead. Steve breathed out a sigh and sat on the edge of the mattress. He dug out his cell and hit the speed dial.

“Hey Cap, how’s it going?” Tony answered on the second ring.  
“I need your help,” Steve replied.  
“Not bothering with small talk today, huh? What can I do for you?”  
“I’m in Medical-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Tony interrupted.  
“What? Are you OK? Of course you’re not OK, you just told me you’re in Medical-”  
“Tony! I’m fine. It’s Barton.” Steve managed to say.  
“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” Tony replied petulantly. “Making me worry for no reason…”  
“I was trying to say so but you interrupted me. Wait, you were worried about me?” Steve asked with a grin.  
“Lies and slander. I was not. Why is Barton in Medical and why does that concern me?” There was a clang in the background, indicating that Tony had gone back to whatever he was doing before Steve called.  
“He collapsed earlier. He’s dehydrated, undernourished, and exhausted. I don’t want to leave him here.” Steve explained.  
“I repeat, why does that concern me?”  
“They had him sedated and fastened to the bed with restraints Tony, I can’t leave him here,” Steve said.  
There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “I suppose you think I’m running a retreat for overworked superheroes.”  
“Well, you do have that big old Tower.” Steve wheedled.  
“Yeah, that’s in several pieces!” Tony exclaimed.  
“Come on Tony, you invited me to move in last week. Barton can share with me if you’re really that short on space.”   
There was a beat of silence. “Fine, bring him here. But if he gets feathers on the furniture, that’s your responsibility.”  
“Thanks, Tony,” Steve said warmly. There was a grunt then Tony ended the call.

Mercifully, Clint slept long enough for the bag of saline to empty. The doctor came back in to check on him, not batting an eyelid at Captain America perched on the edge of the bed.  
“I’d really prefer it if we could get another bag into him, but I suspect that will try his patience. I can’t release him without supervision, however.” he settled a look on Steve. “Are you willing to take responsibility for him, Captain?”  
“I am,” Steve replied with conviction.  
“I’ll get his discharge papers. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.”  
Clint blinked awake when a nurse bustled in and removed his IV.  
“C’n go?” he asked sleepily.  
“Yes, you’re coming with me,” Steve said, patting Clint’s chest gently.  
“Where?”  
“We’re going to the Tower,” Steve replied.  
“K,” Clint said, blinking and struggling to sit up. Steve helped him get upright and swing his legs over the side of the bed.  
“Let me find your shoes, then as soon as we have your paperwork we can go,” Steve said. Clint nodded at him and sat placidly.

Clint had woken up more by the time the cab pulled up by the side entrance of Stark Tower.  
“Didn’t think you were serious when you said we were coming here,” he said, peering out of the window as Steve paid the fare.  
“Where did you think I was taking you?” Steve asked, opening the door and holding out a hand to help Clint out.  
Clint waved it away. “Dunno. Stark know we’re coming?”  
“He does. Come on, let’s get inside.”

“Good afternoon Captain Rogers, Agent Barton.” JARVIS greeted them as they got into an elevator. “Sir has prepared a room for Agent Barton on your floor, Captain.”  
“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve replied.  
Clint trailed after Steve once the elevator stopped on his floor, silent and seemingly disinterested.   
“Kitchen and living room are there, help yourself to whatever you need,” Steve said, gesturing towards the open-plan space. “Bedrooms are through here.” Clint followed him down the short corridor. Steve pushed open the door to the spare room. “This is your room, mine is right next door.” Clint made no move to enter the room, so Steve stepped in to see if he’d follow. “We can get your things shipped from your bunk later today.”  
Clint nodded at him, still in the doorway.   
“Are you hungry?” Steve asked. Clint just shrugged.  
Steve changed tack. “JARVIS, has Tony eaten since breakfast?”  
“Unfortunately not, Captain,” JARVIS replied.  
“Thank you,” Steve said. “Come on Clint, let’s see what we can find in the kitchen.”

It was unnerving to have a silent shadow following him around his apartment. This version of Clint was not the same cocky, confident archer Steve had fought beside during the Battle of New York, nor did he match the description Steve had found in his file. From the many complaints by senior agents in his records, Steve had expected a brazen, brash, and assertive presence, not the subdued figure sat on a stool at his kitchen counter. He heated chicken soup and put together a plate of sandwiches. The soup went into a couple of lidded mugs which Steve picked up in one hand, the sandwiches in another.  
“Let’s go and see if we can pester Tony into eating something,” Steve said, gesturing for Clint to follow him.

JARVIS opened the workshop door as they approached. Tony was surrounded by complicated holograms, which he was staring at intently.   
“Lunch, Tony,” Steve said, startling Tony out of his head.  
“Hey Cap,” he said, holograms disappearing. “Hey, Legolas.”  
Steve handed Tony a mug of soup and put the sandwiches down on the table by the sofa. Clint nodded his greeting and perched on the edge of the sofa where Steve indicated, taking the second mug of soup when Steve offered it but not drinking it.   
“What are you working on?” Steve asked Tony.   
Tony launched into an explanation of his latest project, drinking the soup and eating a couple of sandwiches when Steve nudged him. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve watched Clint take a couple of tentative sips of soup, followed by more as he registered the taste. Once he put the empty mug down Steve held a sandwich out to him, not looking at him but continuing to talk to Tony. He was pleased when Clint took the sandwich and nibbled on it. 

DUM-E rolled over during their lunch break, beeping inquisitively. He noticed Clint and rolled straight over, reaching out his claw to prod Clint. Tony spotted him just before he could make contact, noticing the deadly stillness that had taken over Clint.  
“DUM-E, back up!” Tony snapped. DUM-E did but beeped again. “We do not prod highly trained assassins, we say hello politely.”  
DUM-E’s claw twisted curiously as he took in Clint, who hadn’t relaxed.  
“Barton, meet DUM-E. He has absolutely no manners.” Tony said, gesturing at the bot. “Don’t ever drink his smoothies and you’ll be fine.”  
DUM-E beeped indignantly and abandoned his investigation of Clint to say hello to Steve instead, who patted his strut affectionately.  
“We’ll leave you to it,” Steve said, getting up and collecting the empty mugs and plate. “I’ll give Clint the tour.”  
Clint trailed silently after him.

Steve showed Clint the gym, the shooting range, and the entertainment room with its cinema screen and surround sound.   
“You can go anywhere you like while you’re here. JARVIS keeps the kitchen stocked so eat whatever you like. I’m trying to introduce Tony to the concept of regular meals and you’re welcome to join us, we usually eat in my kitchen.” Steve explained. “If you need anything, ask me, Tony or JARVIS. Tony will probably ignore you, don’t take it personally. I go into S.H.I.E.L.D most days and you’re welcome to join me, or you can stay here if you prefer.”  
Clint nodded at him, looking a bit lost.  
“Are you ok, Clint?” Steve asked gently.  
“Fine,” Clint replied instantly.  
Steve was unconvinced but didn’t argue.

They settled into a routine. Steve tried his best to make sure Tony and Clint ate something at least twice a day, frowning to himself when neither of them ate enough for his liking. He pestered Tony into at least pretending to sleep for a few hours each night, and would have done the same for Clint if he could find him at night. Clint hadn’t slept in his bed since he arrived, but JARVIS assured Steve that he wasn’t leaving the Tower. He was well aware that he had turned into a mother hen but he didn’t let that bother him, he needed to feel needed, and pushing paper around a desk at S.H.I.E.L.D just wasn’t enough. 

Late one night Steve was reading in bed when the door to his bedroom opened and Tony slunk in.  
“Hey Cap.” he greeted, making himself comfortable on the bed beside Steve.  
“Hey Tony, everything ok?” Tony had invited himself into Steve’s bedroom a few times since he moved in, claiming an urgent need to discuss something Avenger-related but really just looking for company. Steve let him carry on with the pretence.  
“How’s the bird doing?” Tony asked, stealing one of Steve’s pillows.  
Steve marked his page and put his book on the nightstand. “Not good,” he said. “I don’t know what’s got him so down.”  
Tony shifted beside him. “I might know something about that,” he admitted. Steve raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “JARVIS may possibly have done some digging. A bit.”  
“Tony-” Steve’s admonishment was cut off by Tony’s impatient hand wave.  
“Yes I know, privacy, boundaries, yadda, yadda. Save it, Cap. He and Coulson were close. I mean, really close.” Tony said.  
“How close are we talking?” Steve asked, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.  
“According to the file I saw, they were registered as domestic partners for 8 years,” Tony said quietly.  
Steve swore.  
“That’s what I said.” They sat quietly for a moment. “Romanoff is his only real friend, and Fury’s packed her off on deep cover to who knows where. He’s grieving, Steve.”  
“And completely alone,” Steve said, heart breaking.

“What do you want from me?”  
Tony jumped, startled at Clint’s voice suddenly breaking through his concentration. His eyes darted around the workshop, looking for Clint.  
“What the- where the hell are you?” He looked upwards. “Are you in the vents? Seriously, I’m too old for this. Come out where I can see you, Legolas.”  
“What do you want from me?” Clint repeated from the vent above Tony’s work table.  
Tony glared at the vent. “For you not to hide in the vents. You just took years off my life.”   
The metal grille slid back and Clint slipped out of the gap like an otter, landing neatly on his feet beside Tony.  
“Why am I here, Stark?” Clint growled at him. Tony took a step back.  
“Because Steve likes taking in strays and I wouldn’t let him keep the kitten. Unless you mean from a more philosophical standpoint, in which case I have no idea, go bother someone else.”  
Clint took a step forward. Tony refused to be intimidated in his own workshop and didn’t move. Then reconsidered and took another step back. “Because Steve didn’t want to leave you at S.H.I.E.L.D and I have plenty of room, even though some of it has demigod-shaped holes in it.”  
Clint flinched at that and Tony cursed himself for his thoughtless comment. “Look, Barton, stay or go. It’s up to you, right?”  
Clint glared at him. “You want a pet assassin, Stark? Point me at people and make me shoot?” he snarled, “Or do you want me to get on my knees for you, show you a good time? Put me in my place?”  
Tony couldn’t keep the surprise from his face. He ignored his survival instincts and stepped closer to Clint. “Oh honey, no. None of those things. I don’t want anything from you, neither does Steve.”  
Clint growled and clenched his fists. “Then why am I here?” he ground out.  
“Because neither of us wanted you to grieve alone,” Tony answered quietly.  
Clint spun on his heel and fled the workshop.

Tony invited himself into Steve’s bed again that night, sliding under the covers without a word. Steve put his book down. “OK?” he asked.  
“Barton found me in the workshop earlier,” Tony replied, staring at the ceiling rather than at Steve.  
“Yeah?” Steve prompted.  
“Wanted to know why he was here, what we wanted from him. Assumed it was either as an assassin or a whore.” Tony spat the last out bitterly.  
“What?” Steve choked out. Tony just hummed. “Is that really what he thinks?”  
“Seems like it,” Tony replied wearily. “I thought I had issues.”  
Steve sighed.  
“Can I stay here tonight?” Tony asked.  
“Yeah.”

Clint was in the workshop when Tony arrived a few mornings later. He was on the sofa playing fetch with DUM-E and ignored Tony’s entrance.  
“And here was me thinking I had a state of the art security system,” Tony grumbled.  
Tony was quickly absorbed in his work and tuned out DUM-E’s increasingly excited beeping. When he glanced up from the holoscreen a couple of hours later he was surprised to see Clint fast asleep on the sofa, DUM-E crouched protectively over him.

Over the next few weeks, Clint spent an increasing amount of time in the workshop with Tony. He never spoke to Tony but Tony often heard him mumbling to DUM-E, who had taken to sticking to his side like a guard dog.

Steve and Tony were sprawled on Steve’s sofa watching a movie. Tony was heckling the special effects and Steve was trying his best to ignore him. Clint slunk out of the shadows and into an armchair. Nobody said anything, but Tony passed him the bowl of popcorn.

Two months after moving in, Clint had stopped hiding so much. He spent his days in the workshop with Tony or, if Tony was out, in Steve’s living room. He ate breakfast and dinner with them and joined in on movie nights. If Steve was reading or sketching on an evening, Clint would sit quietly nearby. He didn’t speak very often, and according to JARVIS he still slept in the vents most nights, but he was looking better.

Steve unintentionally broke the peace when he brought some forms from S.H.I.E.L.D for Clint to fill out.   
“They’re standard for long-term absence, nothing serious,” Steve assured as he handed them over. “I’ll take them back in with me tomorrow.”  
Clint threw them back at him and stormed off. Steve blinked as the pages fluttered around him. “Or not,” he said to the empty room.  
Clint didn’t appear for dinner.  
“JARVIS, where is Clint?” Steve asked.  
“Agent Barton is in his quarters, Captain.”   
“Thank you,” Steve replied.  
After dinner, Steve knocked tentatively on Clint’s bedroom door. He was surprised when Clint opened it and scowled at him through the gap.  
“I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier, Clint,” Steve said, unintentionally using his earnest Captain America voice. Clint shrugged at him. “Do you want some dinner?”  
“Not hungry,” Clint replied and moved to close the door.  
“Clint, please,” Steve said. Clint just glared at him and shut the door in his face.

Steve was mindlessly watching a documentary later that night when Clint appeared in the corner of his eye, holding the folder and twitching nervously.  
“Is everything ok, Clint?” he asked.  
“I, uh, sorry. For earlier.” Clint said haltingly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.  
“Apology accepted,” Steve replied, looking at Clint curiously.  
“Can you, I mean, would you mind helping me?” Clint asked. “With the forms?”  
Steve smiled at Clint. “Of course I’ll help. What do you need?” Steve flicked the TV off and gestured Clint over to the sofa.  
“I, uh, don’t read so well,” Clint admitted, looking embarrassed. “Or write. Phil, uh…” he trailed off.  
Steve felt his heart lurch at the mention of Coulson. “No problem, come and sit here and we’ll work through them together.”  
“I’m not dumb.” Clint ground out.  
“I never said you were.” Steve soothed.  
Clint considered him for a minute, then sat down beside Steve and handed him the folder.   
“How about I read out the questions and you can tell me what to write?” Steve offered. Clint nodded and they worked through the form together.

“He’s severely dyslexic,” Tony said, climbing into Steve’s bed the following night. “I dug around in his file and found his training record.”  
“You really have no idea about boundaries, do you?” Steve replied, tugging his pillow back from Tony. “It’s disturbing.”  
“Boundaries are inconvenient. Our resident Cupid is seriously smart, his test scores are impressive. I mean, not my levels of impressive, but for your regular non-genius Barton’s one smart cookie. He just can’t really read or write. Coulson got him as much help as S.H.I.E.L.D could provide and it was never a problem on ops.”  
“What do you mean, dyslexic?” Steve asked, confused. “If he’s that smart, why can’t he read or write well?”  
“It’s a learning difficulty. His brain struggles with the skills needed for reading, writing, or anything else using symbols. Doesn’t affect intelligence, but if it isn’t diagnosed it can come across as low ability. You might know it as word blindness.” Tony explained, wriggling beside Steve to get comfortable.   
“Huh,” said Steve, dodging one of Tony’s flailing elbows. “He said Phil helped him out with forms and things.”  
“I bet his S.H.I.E.L.D laptop has all kinds of software on it to help him too. Not as good as what I could create.” Tony had finally found a comfortable position and settled down. “I’ll get something sorted for him tomorrow.”  
Steve vowed to do some research of his own.

Steve woke up the next morning with Tony slumped across his chest and drooling on his shoulder. He had to admit that his nightmares had all but stopped once Tony had started to share his bed, and considering the amount of sleep that Tony seemed to be getting, Tony’s were too. Steve laid there for a few minutes longer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of another body close by, before gently rolling Tony off his chest and sliding out of bed to go for a run. 

As it was the weekend, Steve spent the afternoon stretched out on the sofa with a book. He’d picked up a new thriller from the bookstore on the next block and was looking forward to starting it. Clint settled into the armchair at the end of the sofa.  
“Hey.” Steve greeted.  
“New book?” Clint asked.  
“Yep, picked it up this morning.”  
There was a beat of silence. “Nat’s always got a book on the go,” Clint said.  
“She introduced me to this author,” Steve replied. “I’m glad she did.”  
Clint shifted in the armchair.  
“Would you like to read it with me?” Steve asked.   
Clint looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I, uh. Reading’s not something I do.”  
“I wondered if you’d like me to read it out loud. I haven’t started it yet but it looks good. Bucky and I used to read to each other all the time.” Steve said quietly.   
Clint looked startled at Steve’s offer. “You, uh, you don’t have to do that. It’ll probably ruin it for you.”  
“No, it won’t. What do you say? Shall we give it a shot?”   
Clint regarded Steve openly, trying to get a read on him. Whatever he saw in Steve’s expression must have satisfied him though as he gave a short nod. Steve smiled happily at him, opened the book, and started to read.

The next time Clint appeared when Steve was in the living room, he shyly asked if Steve would read to him again. After the third chapter, Clint moved from the armchair to the other end of the sofa where Steve was. The time after, Clint started on the sofa, turned to face Steve so he could hesitantly tuck his toes under Steve’s thigh. Steve dropped a hand to Clint’s ankle and continued to read. A week and half the book later, Steve’s heart soared when Clint leaned against his shoulder as he read, and two chapters later, he allowed Steve to wrap an arm around his shoulders. From that point onwards, whenever Steve picked up a book Clint would appear and snuggle into his side with a contented little sigh. 

“Why do you and Steve share a bed?” Clint’s question made Tony jump.  
“For God’s sake Barton, use the door!” Tony yelped as Clint dropped out of the vent in his workshop. DUM-E immediately zoomed over and greeted Clint enthusiastically.  
“Well?” Clint prompted once Tony had recovered.  
“Because we both get nightmares and it's easier with someone else right there,” Tony said with a shrug. “Also, the man is a furnace and I don’t like being cold.”  
Clint hummed in agreement at that.  
“What’s up, Cupid? Feeling left out?” Tony teased. “There’s room enough for you too.”  
“I knew you wanted me in your bed, Stark.” Clint teased back. “Nobody can resist the Hawkeye charm for long.”   
“In your dreams, bird brain.” Tony chucked a pen at Clint, who cackled as he swaggered off with a wink over his shoulder.

“Captain Rogers.” JARVIS’s voice woke Steve up in the early hours of the next morning. “Sorry to wake you, but Agent Barton is in distress.”  
Steve was instantly awake. “What does he need?” he asked, already sliding out from beneath the still-sleeping Tony.  
“Agent Barton has awoken from a nightmare, Captain. Your presence will provide relief for him.”  
Steve was out of his bedroom in seconds. He knocked once on Clint’s door then pushed it open. Clint was huddled in the corner of his room, shaking and clearly upset.   
“Hey Clint, it’s Steve. Is it OK if I come closer?” Steve asked quietly, not wanting to spook Clint.  
“Told JARVIS not to wake you up,” Clint muttered.  
“It’s OK, I’d rather know if you’re upset. Is it alright if I sit next to you?” Clint nodded shakily so Steve slid down the wall to sit beside him. “Feel like telling me what your nightmare was about?” Steve prompted. Clint shook his head. “That’s OK, we can just sit here for as long as you need.”  
It took a little while, but eventually, Clint stopped shaking. He was still curled tightly into himself, but he had shifted closer to Steve’s warmth as he started to calm down.  
“Better?” Steve asked.  
“Yeah, thanks,” Clint replied.  
“Think you can go back to sleep for a bit? It’s still early.”  
Clint shook his head. “Not a chance. I’ll probably go to the range or something. You can go back to bed, I’ll be fine.”  
Steve didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone after seeing him so upset. “Would you be able to sleep if I stayed with you?” he asked.  
“Nah, it’s OK. Tony needs you more than I do.” Clint said.  
“Tony was fast asleep when I left, he’s fine. I’ll stay with you if that’s what you need, Clint.” Steve reassured. Clint shook his head again. “How about you come in with us then?”   
Clint looked startled at his offer. “But what about Tony?” he asked.  
“What about him? I know he invited you to share with us, he wasn’t joking about that.” Steve said, reaching out to squeeze Clint’s hand. Clint looked uncertain, and suddenly very young. “Come and give it a try. If you don’t like it then you can go down to the range, or do whatever you need to do to feel better.”  
Clint nodded hesitantly and allowed Steve to help him to his feet.

Tony stirred as they entered Steve’s bedroom.  
“St’v?” he mumbled.  
“Go back to sleep, Tony. Everything’s ok.” Steve soothed.  
“‘K.” Tony rolled over and sighed deeply as he fell back asleep.  
Steve nudged Clint to get into bed, then slid in after him so that Clint was sandwiched between him and Tony. Clint laid stiffly, not sure what was wanted of him, until Steve tugged over and wrapped an arm around him, cuddling him close. Clint rested his head tentatively against Steve’s shoulder and quickly relaxed as he found the same comfortable position as he did when they read together. In a matter of minutes, he fell back into a deep and easy sleep.

When Steve woke up the next morning, Clint was wrapped around him like an affectionate octopus. Tony was curled up on Clint’s other side and Steve felt contentment roll through him with the knowledge that his two teammates were safe and well. He cuddled Clint close for a few minutes longer, then carefully rolled them both over. Clint stirred a little but stayed asleep as Steve gently laid him on the mattress beside Tony, smiling fondly as they reached for each other and curled together like kittens. He tried not to think of these two powerful, dangerous men as being adorable, but he failed and resisted the urge to take a photo. If he grinned like a loon as he jogged around the city that morning, there was nobody to question him about it.

Tony was leaning against the headboard poking blearily at a Starkpad when Steve got back from his morning run.  
“Morning.” he greeted Tony. “Where’s Clint?”  
“Took off like a rocket when he woke up and realized he was cuddled up to me. It was a surprise for both of us. When did that happen?” Tony asked, peering at Steve rather than his screen.  
Steve was digging in his dresser looking for clean clothes. “He had a nightmare last night, JARVIS woke me up and asked me to go to him. He refused to go back to sleep on his own so I brought him in here with us. That was ok, right?” Steve checked.  
“The more the merrier if you ask me,” Tony replied cheekily.  
“I know, I’ve seen the videos.” Steve winked and went for a shower.

When Clint didn’t appear for dinner that night, Steve asked JARVIS to track him down.  
“Agent Barton has been in the shooting range for the last 9 hours, Captain,” JARVIS informed him. “His hydration and calorie intake levels are lower than necessary for his condition and physical activity.”  
“Thank you JARVIS,” Steve replied, heading for the range. JARVIS was just as much of a mother hen as Steve once he’d decided to like someone.  
Steve spent a couple of minutes watching Clint’s rhythmic draw and release as arrows thudded into the target with deadly accuracy. There was no sign of fatigue from where he stood, but Steve knew that a highly trained agent like Clint would be able to put aside any physical concerns and focus. He waited for Clint to empty his quiver before approaching.   
“How are those new arrows Tony developed working out?” he asked.  
“Pretty good,” Clint replied over his shoulder as he walked up to the target to retrieve his arrows.  
“Are you ready for dinner?” Steve asked when Clint returned.  
“Not hungry,” Clint replied.   
Steve wasn’t surprised or convinced. “That’s fine. It’s time to come upstairs anyway.”  
Clint got a mulish expression on his face. “I’m fine, Cap,” he growled. A lesser man would have left him alone, but Steve was not a lesser man.  
“I’m sure you are, but you’ve been down here for 9 hours without a break. It’s time to come back upstairs, Clint.”   
There was just enough hint of command in his voice to give Clint pause, but not enough for him to obey without a fight. He turned to nock another arrow, but Steve stepped up to him.  
“That’s enough Clint. Come on, even if you don’t want to eat you still need to give your body a break.”  
Clint growled in the back of his throat and moved to draw his bow. Steve raised an eyebrow at him. Clint held his gaze for a moment then sighed, relaxing his hold on the bowstring and shoving the arrow back into the quiver.  
“Fine.” he snapped.  
Steve stayed with him as Clint unstrung his bow and stowed the quiver of arrows. He slid an affectionate arm across Clint’s shoulders to guide him towards the elevator.  
“Good choice,” he said. The tips of Clint’s ears pinked with pleasure.

Clint ate the chicken Steve put in front of him and drank a full bottle of water. He reluctantly allowed Steve to clean and dress the damage on his fingers from his hours of archery, then followed Steve into the living room. Tony was already sprawled across most of the sofa, ignoring a film in favour of his Starkpad. Steve knocked Tony’s feet out of the way to make room and sat down on the other end of the sofa, pulling Clint down to sit between them. Tony dropped his legs back over Clint’s lap when he sat, nudging Steve with his toes to get a foot rub. Clint sat stiffly between them, unsure of what was happening.  
“Are you watching this, Tony?” Steve asked, obliging the request for a foot rub.  
“Nope. Wanna see what else is on, Legolas?” he asked Clint. Clint just shrugged and folded his arms. “Well don’t blame me when we get stuck with yet another documentary.” Tony groused, then yelped when Steve pinched his toe in retaliation.  
“Brat.” Steve chided. “JARVIS, what’s next on my list?”  
“I believe you were working your way through the Star Wars movies, Captain. Would you like the next one playing?” JARVIS replied.  
“Yes please.” 

Clint relaxed as the movie played, ending up settled against Steve’s side. Steve wrapped an arm around him, keeping his other hand resting lightly on Tony’s feet in his lap. Steve glanced over at Tony as the credits rolled. Tony shot a pointed look at Clint, then back at Steve. Steve rolled his eyes but gently shook Clint awake. Clint grumbled but blinked up at him.  
“Hey there sleepyhead. Ready for bed?” he asked.  
“S’early,” Clint mumbled.  
“Not if you’re tired,” Steve replied.  
Clint huffed and rubbed his face on Steve’s shirt tiredly.  
“Definitely bedtime.” Steve smiled down at him. “Do you want to share with us again tonight?”  
Clint stiffened immediately. Steve drew him into a hug.  
“Hey, easy. There’s no pressure Clint, I just wondered if you might sleep better with us. You can say no if you want to.” he soothed.  
Clint sat stiffly in his arms, clearly conflicted. Steve kept up the soothing motions he was rubbing on Clint’s back and arm until he felt him relax against him again. He felt Clint nod once against his shoulder.  
“Come on then, let’s go get ready,” said Steve.  
He squeezed Tony’s ankle affectionately then nudged his feet away so that he and Clint could stand up.   
Tony smiled up at them. “I’ve got some SI stuff to do here, I’ll follow in a couple of hours.”  
Steve gave him an assessing look. “Make sure you do.”   
Tony waved them away and was quickly distracted again.

Clint hesitated at the bedroom door after changing in his room. Steve patted the bed beside him.  
“In you come.” he invited.  
Clint slipped into the room, eyes darting around. He perched on the edge of the mattress.  
“It’s ok to want comfort, Clint,” Steve said softly. “I know it’s not usual, even in this century, for men to share a bed with no sexual component, but if that’s what you need then we’re freely offering it to you.”  
“I shouldn’t need it though.” came Clint’s quiet reply.  
Steve stroked his arm gently. “You’re grieving the loss of your partner. There’s no right or wrong way to do that.” Steve heard Clint sniff and watched him harshly wipe away a tear. “Neither Tony nor I will judge you for anything you need here, I promise. We’re just concerned with helping you to stay well and to support you through this if you’ll let us.”  
Clint finally gave in to his tears, curling in on himself as sobs wracked his body. Steve’s heart broke for him. He reached out and scooped Clint up and into his lap, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. Clint gripped his shirt tightly as he curled closer. Steve rocked him gently as he held him, murmuring gentle reassurances into his ear. Eventually, Clint cried himself to sleep. Steve grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and gently wiped his face, then rearranged them to lay down for sleep. Clint stayed tucked closely into his side, still gripping on to his shirt. 

An hour or so later, Tony slipped into the room. “Everything ok?” he asked quietly, taking in Clint’s position.  
“Cried himself to sleep,” Steve whispered back.  
“Poor little bird,” Tony replied.  
He quickly changed and slid into bed on Clint’s other side, curling himself as close to him as he could. Steve reached out and tugged Tony’s arm to rest over Clint and held it against his belly.  
“Go to sleep, mama bear.” Tony fondly mocked. “We’re all right here.”

When Steve woke up for his run the next morning, both Clint and Tony were still fast asleep. As he’d done the previous day, he cuddled Clint close for a few minutes, then rolled him over and into Tony’s arms. This morning Tony was awake enough to take Clint from Steve, humming sleepily as he settled Clint against his chest and hugging him close. Steve found it difficult to persuade himself to leave the warm bed and go for a run, but he managed.

Steve was surprised to find Clint and Tony still lounging in the bed when he got back, idly arguing over breakfast choices. Clint was sprawled against Tony’s shoulder with an arm slung over his chest as he defended his position of waffles over pancakes.   
“It’s the little holes in them, you can get way more syrup on a waffle than you can on a pancake. It’s science, Tony.” Clint stated.  
“Don’t you science me, you ingrate. Pancakes are clearly better, you have a greater surface area for maximum topping distribution.” Tony retaliated. “Steve, help me out here. Pancakes are a far superior breakfast item than waffles, right?”  
Steve couldn’t stop the fond grin breaking across his face. “What I’m hearing here is that you want me to make both pancakes and waffles for breakfast so you can see who’s right.”  
“It’s for science!” Tony wailed, dramatically flinging the arm that wasn’t wrapped around Clint towards Steve. “Don’t be an enemy of science, Steve.”  
Steve held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I wouldn’t dare be an enemy of science in such esteemed company.” he grinned. “Let me get a quick shower then we’ll make a start on the Great Breakfast Experiment.”

True to his word, Steve made both pancakes and waffles for breakfast. Clint and Tony argued goodnaturedly all through breakfast, each trying to outdo the other with toppings. Steve was just happy to see them both enjoying food for a change and was lighthearted as he finished up his food and tidied his dishes away.   
“Time for me to leave,” Steve said, checking the time. “I’ll be home around 6, ok?”  
“Have a good day at the office, dear.” Tony sassed as Steve picked up his phone and a travel mug of coffee.  
“Brat.” Steve retorted, cuffing Tony gently on the back of the head as he walked past him. “Be good, there’s lunch in the fridge.”  
“Yes Mom,” Clint replied, ducking preemptively as Steve made a move towards him. He was startled when Steve dropped a kiss on the top of his head instead of the swat he was expecting.  
“Behave for your father,” Steve said, slipping into the elevator just as Tony started to splutter indignantly.

6.15 pm saw Steve tiredly making his way into the Tower. Recruits were exhausting.   
“Good evening, Captain Rogers.” JARVIS greeted Steve as he stepped into the private elevator.  
“Good evening JARVIS. Where are Tony and Clint?”  
“Sir and Agent Barton are in the workshop, Captain. Should I take you there?”  
“Yes please.” Steve was looking forward to seeing ‘his boys’ after a frustrating day at S.H.I.E.L.D. He tapped in his access code and the workshop door slid open. Steve was surprised that the lights were dimmed and the music quiet, completely unlike Tony’s usual environment. A glance around the workshop made Steve realize why; Tony was laid on the sofa with a sleeping Clint curled up on his chest. Tony greeted him quietly as he approached.  
“Hey. Everything ok?” Steve asked.  
“We’ve had a tearful afternoon,” Tony replied, idly stroking Clint’s back. “I think the dam broke last night.”  
“How long has he been asleep?” Steve asked.  
“A couple of hours. Listen, could you take him? My bladder’s screaming at me.” Tony looked at him hopefully.   
Steve nodded and reached down, easily picking Clint up and cradling him close. Tony shot off the sofa into the nearest bathroom as Steve sat down and swung Clint onto his lap. Clint snuffled into his neck which made Steve smile fondly. He ran a hand down Clint’s arm and squeezed his hand.  
“Clint? It’s time to wake up, sweetheart.” Steve crooned, gently rocking Clint in his lap. “It’s almost dinnertime,” Clint grumbled and pushed closer into Steve’s chest. “I know, but if you sleep much longer you won’t sleep tonight.”  
Clint grumbled again, but Steve’s gentle pestering dragged him out of sleep. He was blinking awake as Tony returned, grumpy expression in place.  
“That’s quite the impressive pout you have there, kid.” Tony grinned at him, ruffling his hair. Clint swatted his hand away and glared at Tony. “Woah, death glare. OK, OK, not awake enough for teasing, I get it.”  
“Leave him be Tony, you’re a nightmare when you first wake up too.” Steve chided. “Come on Clint, let’s leave the mad engineer to his lair and we’ll go think about dinner.”  
Steve stood up and set Clint on his feet. Clint stayed close though, hooking a finger through one of Steve’s belt loops. Steve wrapped his arm around Clint’s shoulders and led him over to the elevator.  
“I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready, Tony,” he said on their way out. Tony grunted in reply, already absorbed in a project.

Steve got Clint involved in vegetable chopping for a stir fry. He’d figured out that both Clint and Tony were more inclined to eat if they’d had a hand in preparing the meal so it was something Steve encouraged. Food was the best thing about waking up in a new century and Steve had thrown himself wholeheartedly into learning new recipes, especially once he moved into the Tower and had access to a fully stocked kitchen. Clint still hadn’t said much but was happy enough to follow Steve’s gentle directions, so once everything was ready to go in the wok, Steve took the opportunity to tug Clint into a hug.   
“How are you doing?” he asked.  
Clint had melted into his embrace. “OK,” he replied.  
“Tony said you’d had a sad afternoon.” Steve gently questioned. Clint nodded. “Anything in particular caused that?”  
Clint sighed deeply. “Guess it’s finally hitting me that he’s gone.”  
“Grief is not an easy thing, you’re allowed to feel however you need to,” Steve reassured him. “And you know that Tony’s secretly a cuddle monster so he’s always happy to hold you when you need it.”  
Clint huffed a laugh into Steve’s shoulder, then pushed back a little out of the embrace. “You’re hardly a standoffish guy either.” he gestured to their current position.   
Steve grinned at him. “I make no secret of the fact that I’m affectionate.” He hauled Clint close again and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Do you want to start cooking while I go change?”  
Clint nodded and stepped out of Steve’s arms to make a start on dinner.

After two weeks of sharing Steve’s bed, the three of them had established a comfortable routine. Steve was usually the first to go to bed, taking the chance to read. After a couple of evenings, Clint clued in on this and would quickly follow Steve, flopping over his chest so that he could feel the vibrations of Steve’s voice as he read aloud to him. Tony would usually follow an hour or two later, sliding silently into bed and curling around Clint, who was usually asleep by then. In the morning, Steve woke up first and would roll Clint into Tony’s arms before getting up for a run. By the time he got back, Clint and Tony were usually awake and cuddled up in bed chatting or bickering. After a shower, Steve would make breakfast for them all then head into S.H.I.E.L.D if it was a workday, or take up residence on the sofa if not. Clint would join Tony in the workshop if he was there, or spend time on the range or in the gym if not. On weekends he’d stick close to Steve and entertain himself with video games or movies. It was all sickeningly domestic.

Their routine was broken one evening when Steve came home to find Natasha in his living room.   
“Nat!” he strode over to her and reached out, anxious to check her for injuries but knowing that she was wary of physical contact.  
“I’m fine Steve. Where’s Clint?” she said.  
“Agent Barton is in the workshop, Agent Romanoff. Do you wish me to alert him of your presence?” JARVIS replied.  
“Not yet. Steve, we have a situation.” Natasha got straight to the point. “Coulson is alive.”  
“What? How?” Steve was stunned. “Does Clint know?”  
“Not yet. Phil’s not...himself yet.” Natasha replied. She handed Steve a file with Project T.A.H.I.T.I written across the front.  
“What is this, Nat?” Steve asked, confused.  
“This is the reason Phil’s alive. It’s not easy reading. I don’t want to get Clint’s hopes up, Phil might never be the same again.” she slumped down on the sofa in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. “It’s a mess, Steve.”  
Steve sat down beside her. “So you want me to read this before we decide what to tell Clint?” Natasha nodded. “Shouldn’t we just tell him that Coulson is alive? Nat, you haven’t seen him for the last few months, he’s a wreck.”  
“Which is why we’re not just telling him all this without any warning. I care about him too much to break his heart all over again.” Natasha sounded weary.  
“OK, I’ll read through this and we can decide what to do together. Will you see him while you’re here?” Steve asked.  
“You couldn’t keep me away,” Natasha replied, standing up and heading towards the elevators.  
Steve watched her go then turned his attention to the file in his hand.

Steve felt physically sick when he finished reading through the file. Alien tech, memory replacement, brain surgery; it was enough to make even a super soldier lose his appetite. He hid the file in a stack of sketchbooks. Steve broke 4 punch bags that evening.

Steve waved a greeting at Clint and Natasha and headed to his bathroom to wash off the sweat from his unintended workout. His nausea had reduced and left him with a sense of quiet fury at, well, Fury and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D for doing something so horrific to a man who was known as Fury’s One Good Eye. If that’s what they did to friends, Steve didn’t want to think about how they treated enemies. Once clean, Steve slipped into pyjama bottoms and a shirt. Cursing his metabolism, Steve knew he had no option but to leave his room to find food, but he wasn’t sure that he could keep it together around Clint and Natasha. He was heartbroken for Clint and irrationally angry at Natasha purely for her connection to S.H.I.E.L.D, and wanted nothing more than to hide away and organize his thoughts. However his stomach growled and he knew it would only be worse if he didn’t eat, so he reluctantly left the room.

Clint looked up as Steve entered the room. “There’s some leftover Indian in the fridge for you, I saved it when you missed dinner,” Clint said.  
Steve thanked him and reheated the food, eating mechanically once it was hot enough. Clint sidled up to him in the kitchen as Steve was loading his dishes into the dishwasher.  
“OK?” he asked Steve, bumping his shoulder gently.   
Steve smiled down at him. “Yeah, just recovering from my workout.” Clint didn’t look convinced. “I’m going to have an early night, enjoy your evening with Nat, OK?”  
Clint scrutinized him closely but nodded. Steve pulled him into a half hug before stepping away. “I’m OK, I promise.”  
Clint allowed him to move away and didn’t push for the truth.

Steve was laid in bed sketching, trying to take his mind off the horrific things he’d read in the Project T.A.H.I.T.I. file, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep while he was this wound up. The bedroom door opened and Clint slipped in, padding over to the bed and perching on the edge of the mattress beside Steve’s hip.  
“Are you mad at me?” Clint asked in a small voice.  
Steve’s heart lurched. “No sweetheart, not at all. I just got some news today that I need to think about. I promise you’ve done nothing wrong.” he reassured. Clint had been doing a lot better recently, to the point where it was easy to forget how insecure he was. Steve put his sketchbook to one side and reached out for Clint, who immediately flung himself into Steve’s arms. “I’m sorry I made you think that I was mad at you, Clint. Nothing could be further from the truth.”  
Steve rearranged them both into a more comfortable position and allowed Clint to cuddle close. “Are you pleased to see Nat?” Steve questioned.  
Clint nodded into his neck with a happy sigh. “Yeah, glad she’s back for a while.” Clint was quiet for a few moments. “Will you be mad if I sleep in my bed with Tasha tonight?” he asked quietly.  
Steve dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “You can sleep wherever you’re the most comfortable, sweetheart. I think Nat would be pleased to spend the time with you.”  
Clint hummed happily. “I’ve missed her.”   
“I’m not surprised, she’s your best friend,” Steve replied. “Which is why you should probably go back out there and spend time with her, not in here with boring old me.”  
Clint huffed a laugh and pulled back enough to look at Steve. “Promise it’s OK?” he asked, unsure.  
Steve hugged him closer again. “I promise. Just make sure you say goodnight to Tony before you go to bed, otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”  
Clint squeezed him tight for a minute then wriggled free from Steve’s embrace. He wished Steve goodnight and went back to join Natasha in the living room.

“I feel like my kid’s gone to a sleepover,” Tony grumbled as he came into the bedroom later. “What has Barton done to me?”  
Steve grinned over at him. “That’s what it feels like to care, Shellhead. A strange feeling for you, I know, but there you go.”  
Tony flipped him off and flopped down on the mattress. “What if he has a nightmare and needs us?” he whined.  
Steve sighed at him. “I’m sure Natasha is more than capable of looking after him, Tony. They’ve been partners for over a decade.”  
“Is this what it’s like to be a parent?” Tony asked. “Let’s never do that.” He wriggled under the covers and rolled around dramatically. “There’s too much room in this bed. Was there always this much room? How did I ever sleep by myself? This is awful.”  
Steve grabbed a flailing arm and dragged Tony close, moving him around until Tony was curled up against his side. “My God, you’re ridiculous.” Steve wrapped Tony up in a tight hug, winding their limbs together. “Is this better? Are you close enough? Do you need to put your nose in my armpit like you do with Clint?” he teased.   
Tony grumped at him but squirmed around until he was comfortable. “I suppose this will do. Don’t expect me to fall asleep though.”  
Steve said nothing. He was unsurprised when Tony started snoring in his ear not 5 minutes later.

Steve forewent his usual morning run in favour of sparring with Natasha. She was warming up in the gym when he got there, nodding her greeting as he joined her in her stretches.  
“You and Tony have been caring for Clint,” Natasha stated when she’d finished warming up.  
Steve couldn’t decide if that was a question or an accusation, so he nodded.  
“Why?”  
“Because he’s our teammate and had nobody else,” Steve replied.  
“He speaks fondly of you both,” Natasha said, launching herself at Steve before he could reply.  
They grappled in silence for a while.  
“I can’t speak for Tony, but I’ve grown fond of him too.” Steve panted out when Natasha pinned him to the mat.  
“Clint has some unique needs,” Natasha said, sitting on Steve’s chest and glaring down at him. “I won’t be happy if you’ve been taking advantage of them.”  
Steve bucked Natasha off his chest and flipped their positions so that she was the one pinned.  
“I would never take advantage of him.”   
Natasha scrutinized him for a second then, in a blur of movement, flipped Steve off her stomach and over her head so he landed in an ungainly heap on the ground.  
“See that you don’t.” 

When he got back to his bedroom afterwards, Clint was snuggled up in the bed with Tony and they were both sleeping soundly.

Natasha wanted to be the one to break the news of Coulson’s continued survival to Clint. Steve agreed to tell Tony. It went about as well as could be expected. Tony cycled between disbelief, outrage, and upset which culminated in him retreating into his workshop and enabling lockdown mode. Clint disappeared into the vents. Natasha made herself and Steve mugs of tea and dragged him up to the roof to sit amid the herb garden. They sipped their tea in silence as the warmth of the New York sun settled around them. Natasha sighed deeply. Steve glanced over at her and she quirked an eyebrow in his direction.  
“You know that Tony’s probably working out how to get Coulson moved to the Tower?” Steve said. Natasha nodded. “He cares, you know. He’s just hopeless at showing it.”  
They drank their tea in silence.

Clint found Steve later. He dropped out of a vent in the living room and stood in the middle of the carpet, dusty and unsure. Steve opened his arms and Clint launched himself across the room to curl up on Steve’s lap, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder as he began to sob. Steve could do nothing but hold him close and murmur soothing nonsense into his hair, rocking him gently as his heart broke.

Coulson slept for the first two weeks of his stay in the purpose-built medical room in the Tower. Clint barely left his side, choosing to catch short naps on the sofa Tony had installed in the room, and only picking at the food that Steve brought him. As tempted as Steve was to just scoop Clint up and carry him upstairs for a proper meal and a night’s sleep in a bed, he couldn’t bring himself to separate the pair. The joy on Clint’s face when Coulson woke up and said his name was almost worth it. After another two weeks of the best healthcare money could buy, Coulson was looking better and was able to stay awake for several hours. Clint spent his days curled up beside him on the bed and his nights napping on the sofa. 

Steve was on his way down to visit Coulson and attempt to persuade Clint to come upstairs for a shower when raised voices coming from Coulson’s room stopped him in his tracks.  
“It’s not healthy, Clint.” he heard Coulson say. “I can’t get better if I’m worried about you.”  
“I’m not leaving you, Phil.” Clint snarled.  
“I’m not going anywhere.” Coulson sounded exasperated.  
“You died!”  
Silence fell. Steve dithered in the hallway for a moment, unsure about disturbing their argument, but his concern for Clint won out. He knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside. Coulson still hadn’t got used to his childhood hero casually popping in to see him but he just about hid his startle. Clint was sitting mulishly on the end of the bed, glaring at Coulson.  
“Everything OK in here?” Steve asked tentatively.  
“Fine.”  
“No.”  
Clint and Coulson answered at the same time.  
“Right,” Steve said, looking between the two. “I can come back?”  
“If you’re leaving, Captain, kindly take Agent Barton with you,” Coulson said, bland expression firmly in place.  
“I’m staying here.” Clint ground out,  
Coulson sighed. “All I’m going to be doing is sleeping. It’s nighttime. I’m surrounded by an extremely competent medical team and JARVIS is monitoring my every heartbeat. I could not be safer.” he reached out a hand and Clint took it, still glaring. “Please go with Captain Rogers and get a night’s sleep in a bed? And maybe a shower?”  
“But-” Clint began.  
“JARVIS will wake you the second I need you, I promise. Please?”  
Clint looked between Coulson and Steve, considering his options. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “But I’m coming back first thing in the morning.”  
“After you eat breakfast,” Coulson replied. Clint frowned at him, but then nodded. “Thank you. Now please go shower, you smell like your jump bag.”  
Clint grumbled but allowed Coulson to tug him forward for a brief kiss before sliding off the bed and stalking out of the room.   
“I’m sorry, Captain-” Coulson said.  
Steve held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t apologize. He loves you. For what it’s worth, I’d prefer it if he ate more and slept in a bed more frequently too. Maybe between us, we can make that happen.”  
With a nod goodbye, Steve followed Clint to the elevator.

Clint sulked in the elevator but trailed after Steve when it stopped on his floor, shrugging off Steve’s friendly hand on his shoulder and stalking off to his bedroom. Steve sighed and opened the fridge, pulling together leftovers to make a decent meal for Clint. 

Clint was less surly when he reappeared after his shower. He slid onto a stool by the counter and accepted the plate of food Steve put down in front of him.  
“Coulson didn’t make you leave because he doesn't want you there, you know that right?” Steve broke the silence as Clint played with his food. “He wants you to be healthy too.”  
Clint huffed a breath and didn’t start to eat.  
“Come on, sweetheart. You need to eat something and get some proper rest so that you can help Coulson, OK?” Steve cajoled.   
Clint sighed but began eating. Steve perched beside him at the counter and chatted mindlessly as Clint ate, happy when he cleared most of his plate before pushing it away. Steve cleared the dishes away before turning back to Clint, who was staring dejectedly at the countertop.  
“What do you say to a movie on the couch?” Steve offered. Clint nodded and followed him through to the living room, taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa to Steve and curling into himself. Steve wanted to haul him over, missing the closeness they’d all got used to before Nat had dropped the Coulson bombshell, but allowed Clint his space. 

Halfway through the movie, Clint started fidgeting.   
“OK?” Steve asked him. Clint nodded and stilled on the sofa, only to start wriggling again after a few moments. “What do you need, Clint?” Steve asked. Clint shrugged and appeared to be engrossed in the movie. Steve took a chance. “Do you want to come and sit with me? It’s OK if you do, sweetheart.”  
Clint visibly fought with himself for a moment before sighing and moving up the sofa to lean against Steve. Steve wasted no time in scooping him up and arranging them into a comfortable position with Clint resting against his chest, arms firmly wrapped around him.  
“That better?” Steve asked quietly. Clint nodded, his hair tickling the underside of Steve’s chin. “Remember what I said when you came to live with us? You can have as much comfort as you want, you never have to wait for it to be offered.”  
Clint took a shuddering breath and buried his face in Steve’s shirt. “Didn’t know if it was still allowed,” he mumbled.  
“Why wouldn’t it be allowed?” Steve gently questioned, rubbing his thumb on Clint’s arm.  
“Cuz Phil’s back.”  
Steve thought for a moment. “Would Phil be unhappy with you getting comfort from someone else?”  
Clint shook his head. “He knows how I am. Thought you were only offering because he wasn’t here and you felt sorry for me.”  
Steve couldn’t help snuggling Clint closer. “Oh honey, that’s not why we offered. You needed something that Tony and I were happy to provide. We’ve missed you this last month.”  
“Really?” Clint’s voice was small and quiet, disbelieving.  
“Really. I’m not getting anywhere near as many cuddles, and Tony complains that I’ve only got him to fuss over.” Steve reassured.  
“He likes it really,” Clint replied. Steve hummed in agreement. “Where is Tony?”  
“Dubai. So I’m very cuddle deprived.”   
Clint squirmed to drape himself completely over Steve. “Missed you too,” he admitted.

Clint had dozed off by the time the movie ended. Steve carefully manoeuvred them both so that he could stand, picking Clint up and carrying him through to the bedroom without waking him. Clint stirred as Steve laid him gently on the bed, making a questioning sound.  
“Shh, go back to sleep.” Steve soothed.   
Clint reached out blindly, gripping tight when he caught a handful of Steve’s shirt. “Stay.”  
“I’ll be right back, I promise.”  
Steve freed himself and did what he needed to in the bathroom, hoping that Clint had gone back to sleep. Tired blue eyes peered at him when he returned.  
“You should be sleeping.” Steve gently chided, slipping into bed beside Clint and allowing him to cuddle closer.  
“C’n we call Tony? Miss him.” Clint asked.  
Steve checked the time. “We can try, sweetheart. It’s early there but he might be awake.”  
Steve reached for his phone, thumbed open the contacts, and called Tony. It rang a few times before Tony’s face appeared on the screen, groomed and ready for his day.  
“Hey, Cap. Everything OK?” he asked, concerned.  
“Yep, just got a tired little bird who wants to see you before he goes to sleep.” Steve moved the camera so Tony could see Clint propped against his chest. Tony’s face melted into an affectionate smile.  
“Hey kid, Agent finally kicked you out?”   
Clint scowled at him. “Said I smelled bad,” he grumbled.  
Tony grinned at him, “Yeah, I bet you did. Steve looking after you?” Clint nodded, then yawned. “That’s good.” Steve heard Pepper’s voice in the background. “I gotta go. Miss you, little bird.”  
“Miss you too.”  
“Get some sleep.” Tony ended the call with a stern look.  
“You heard the man,” Steve said, putting his phone back on the nightstand. “Time to sleep.”  
Clint squirmed in his arms to get comfortable and was sound asleep in minutes.

Steve barely got breakfast into Clint before he was racing back to Coulson, fidgeting in the elevator on the way down then charging down the hallway. Steve followed at a more sedate pace, arriving at the doorway to Coulson’s room in time to see Clint squirming happily on the bed beside Coulson.  
“One archer, delivered as promised, clean and well-fed.” Steve greeted, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at the sight.  
“Thank you, Captain, I appreciate the improvement in the aroma,” Coulson replied, expertly dodging Clint’s flailing elbow.  
“Call me Steve, please. I’m not Captain America here.” Steve replied.  
Coulson looked startled for a moment. “Then call me Phil. I’m not very Agent-like right now.”  
“Sure thing.”  
Clint had settled into a graceless sprawl over the non-damaged side of Phil’s chest.  
“I’ll leave you to it, get JARVIS to give me a call if you need anything.”  
“Actually Cap-Steve, there’s one thing,” Phil said, halting him in his tracks. “If you’d be so kind as to retrieve Clint at dinner time and keep him until morning, I’d be grateful. I’m much happier if I know he’s being cared for.”  
“Of course I will.” Steve easily agreed.   
“Do I get a say in this?” Clint grumbled from Phil’s neck.  
“No.” Steve and Phil chorused, then shared a grin. Clint huffed his disapproval.

Two days later, Tony returned home from Dubai. He had JARVIS take him straight to wherever Clint was which, unsurprisingly, was in Phil’s room. Clint and Natasha were perched on the end of the bed, using Phil’s legs as a table for a fast and furious card game that seemed to involve creative insults in Russian. Phil was watching them both with a fond expression but looked up as Tony strolled in.  
“Looking good, Agent.” Tony greeted. “For a card table.”  
Phil shrugged his good shoulder in a ‘what can you do’ way.   
Clint spun around at the sound of Tony’s voice, beaming up at him. “Tony!” he greeted, forgetting about the game.  
“Hey there Merida, miss me?” Tony asked, stepping close to the side of the bed and ruffling Clint’s hair.  
“Not even a bit,” Clint replied, leaning into his chest.  
“Well, that’s gratitude for you, right there. I give you a home, I fix your boyfriend, I make your shiny things, and you don’t even miss me when I’m gone. Kids these days, really.” Tony groused, jostling Clint.  
Clint gave him an awkward hug around his middle. “OK, maybe I missed you a bit. Did you bring me a present?” he asked cheekily.  
“I was in Dubai, all that’s there is skyscrapers and sand. Nothing at all for hawks, just the gift of my company.” Tony replied, wrapping his arm around Clint.  
“Did you keep the receipt for that?” Clint sassed.  
“No new arrows for you,” Tony said, scruffing the back of Clint’s neck and shaking it gently. Clint squawked and squirmed out from under Tony’s hand but didn’t move away, instead wriggling around until he could lean back against Tony’s chest. Tony dropped an easy arm around him and held him close. As Tony caught up with Phil and Natasha, Clint relaxed back into Tony’s embrace. He fiddled idly with Tony’s cufflinks, allowing the conversation to go over his head as he reacquainted himself with Tony’s unspoken support. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Phil regarding them both. It was only then that it occurred to him that he was snuggling the man’s partner at the end of his hospital bed which, he was almost sure, wasn’t the done thing in polite society. He patted Clint on the tummy and stepped back to untangle himself.  
“Nice to see you looking better, Agent. I’m sure you’ll be on your feet and back to your paperwork in no time.”   
“Don’t threaten me, Stark,” Phil said with a groan.  
“I wouldn’t dare,” Tony replied from the doorway. “See you later, kids.”

“I may, possibly, have screwed up. A bit.” Tony said, flopping down on the sofa beside Steve.  
“Why, what did you do? Hello by the way.” Steve replied, lifting his arm for Tony to lean against him.  
“Yes yes, hello and all that,” Tony said, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder as Steve’s arm settled around him. “Hold on, is this weird? Should this be weird? Why isn’t this weird?”  
Steve sighed. “Can we address one thing at a time, please? How did you screw up? Do we need to send an apology to Dubai?”  
“Dubai is fine. Agent might fillet me with a paperclip though.” Tony said, resting all of his weight against Steve.  
“Any particular reason why?”  
Tony rubbed his face on Steve’s shirt and sighed. “I may possibly have been cuddling the kid on the end of his hospital bed when I dropped by to say hi.”  
“Ah.”   
“Is that an ‘I’m predicting your imminent demise by stationery’ ah, or an ‘I’m sure everything is fine, stop overreacting’ ah?” Tony checked. “Because Pepper will be mad if I’m dead. There will be shouting. I don’t like shouting.”  
“I think we’re all overdue for a conversation,” Steve said, “Our dynamic is hardly standard.”  
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Tony admitted into Steve’s shoulder. “Agent’s going to be mad, and he’s the kind of man you don’t want mad at you. He threatened me with a taser, Steve, and that was before I was sharing a bed with his one true love and his childhood hero. I do not want to be tased, I have a heart condition.”  
Tony sounded so despondent that Steve couldn’t help dropping a kiss onto the top of his head.  
“I’ll do my very best to keep tasers away from you, just as a general principle.”

Steve, ever the tactician, decided that it was probably best for he and Phil to have a chat first before involving the more overdramatic members of their family. With a little finangling, and the help of DUM-E’s best woeful beeping, Tony persuaded Clint to spend some time in the workshop the next afternoon. Natasha was back out on a mission so Steve and Phil should have some time for a conversation. Steve knocked on the open door of Phil’s room, pleased to see that he was propped up in bed with a paperback.  
“Hey Phil, good book?” Steve said, taking a seat in the chair by the bed.  
“Not bad. What can I do for you?” Phil replied, putting the book aside.  
Steve took a steadying breath. “I think you and I need a conversation about Clint,” he began.  
“Is he OK?” Phil said, worried.  
“He’s getting there,” Steve reassured him, “but it was bad for a while.”  
Phil listened as Steve filled him in on Clint’s first few months after the Battle. Steve tried not to leave anything out, but he was keen not to upset Phil more than necessary. He found it unexpectedly difficult to explain how their dynamic had slowly altered, how he and Tony had been caring for Clint, how paternal they both felt.  
“We know he’s a grown man, we’re not trying to make him act in any way other than he wants to,” Steve was keen that Phil knew that, “but he’s so easy to care for when you know how.”

Phil was quiet for a few minutes when Steve finished talking.   
“Natasha said that you’d been caring for him,” he said eventually. “I want to thank you for that.”  
Steve nodded.  
“Clint had a hard time growing up. He- he struggles with many aspects of adulthood,” Phil continued. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know that he was still getting the support he needs while I was indisposed.” Phil smiled his half-smile at Steve. “He can make life very difficult when he chooses to, I’m glad that you and Tony were able to manage that part of him.”  
Steve leaned forward with an earnest expression. “You have to know that we weren’t trying to replace you, Phil, not at all.”  
Phil held up a placating hand. “I know that. I’m not upset by your relationship, in fact I mean to encourage it.” Steve looked at him, surprised. “Clint needs a lot of love, a lot of affection. I have always, and will always, offer him as much of both as I am able to. As will Natasha. He clearly adores both of you and I will do nothing to dissuade him. He needs all of us, Steve.”  
Steve nodded again, his throat inexplicably tight at Phil’s quiet statement.  
“He’s got us, Phil. For as long as he’ll have us.”

After a few more weeks of physiotherapy, Phil was allowed to move around the Tower during the day. After a particularly gruelling therapy session the thought of returning to his empty room didn’t appeal.  
“JARVIS, where’s Clint?” he asked.  
“Agent Barton is in Captain Rogers’ living room with Sir and the Captain.” JARVIS replied.  
“Please can you ask if I may join them?”  
There was a moment of silence, presumably as JARVIS did so.  
“Sir requests that, and I quote, you get your ass up here and stop being ridiculous, Agent.”  
Phil huffed in amusement and made his way slowly to the nearest elevator.

Phil followed the sound of murmured voices to Steve’s living room. His heart swelled with happiness as he took in the sight before him. Clint was settled back against Steve’s chest on the sofa, feet stretched out to rest on Tony’s lap as Steve was showing him something on the StarkPad he held. Tony had an easy hand resting on Clint’s shin as he argued goodnaturedly with JARVIS. Phil knew that Clint was well cared for by Steve and Tony, but to see their easy, affectionate interaction put the rest of his worries to rest. He was lucky to survive the Battle but he knew there was more danger to come in the months and years ahead. Seeing the love of his life thriving in his found family made Phil confident that they would all weather the oncoming storm.


End file.
